


Chemist Try

by Tristin



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Abusive Parents, Angst, Anxiety, But we all know where Harry ends up, Child Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No Smut, Panic Attacks, Poor Harry, Poor John
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 16:30:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4186854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tristin/pseuds/Tristin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When John first saw his father hit his sister it was at the dinner table; he had found the report card she had been hiding from him that said she was failing two of her classes. John was 14 at the time, Harry 16.<br/>. . . .<br/>John was becoming afraid of their father; Harry kept making reckless decisions.<br/>After a couple more times of seeing the bruises on his sister and the anger in his father's eyes when they were in the same room together John started reacting, but not in the way he wanted to. Instead of helping his sister he started helping himself, he threw himself into his studies. Everyone could see something changing in John, though no one knew why."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

When John first saw his father hit his sister it was at the dinner table; he had found the report card she had been hiding from him that said she was failing two of her classes. John was 14 at the time, Harry 16.

"You're smarter than this, Harriet! What have you been doing this whole time?! I grounded you a month ago for the same thing and your percentages have gotten worse!" Harry refused to look up from her plate, John was playing with the food on his, suddenly not hungry even though he'd been starving before. "Answer me Harry, explain yourself!" When she still didn't look up their father stood abruptly, pausing for only a second before striking her. It shocked both Harry and John, Harry teared up, but stayed silent; John, who felt like he was going to throw up, excused himself to his room.

The second time John saw his father hit his sister was a year later, they had both just entered the house from school, he was waiting there for her. He forced a bar of soap into her mouth and made her bite off a chunk of it before he pounded on her. John could only stand there and watch horrified and stay out of the way. He hated himself for not defending Harry, but he was so shocked and blindsided he hadn't even thought about it, which made him feel even worse when he thought about it later that night.

John was becoming afraid of their father; Harry kept making reckless decisions.

After a couple more times of seeing the bruises on his sister and the anger in his father's eyes when they were in the same room together John started reacting, but not in the way he wanted to. Instead of helping his sister he started helping himself, he threw himself into his studies. Everyone could see something changing in John, though no one knew why.

His appetite would disappear until all of his school work was done; if he got homework from his morning classes he wouldn't eat lunch until all of it was done. When his friends should have been concerned, they became annoyed. John was no longer fun to be around, all he did was focus on school, when the second semester of school started and the transfer students came in his spot at the table was soon filled.

John found a nearly empty table to sit at instead, "Can I sit here?" he asked the kid with curly black hair who occupied it.

The kid nodded.

"I'm John," he introduced himself, holding out his hand.

The boy hesitated, "Sherlock."

John sat across from him, taking out his chemistry textbook, knowing he wouldn't be eating today because they'd been assigned three pages worth of problems. He could feel Sherlock's eyes on him as he worked, but did his best to ignore it.

"You have to fence that equation," he said suddenly.

John looked and saw he was right, "Are you in chemistry?"

"No."

"Have you taken it before?"

"No."

John chuckled, "Then how do you know what you're doing?"

"I've read that textbook before," Sherlock explained.

"You've never taken the class but you've read the textbook?"

"It interests me," he shrugged.

"Will you help me then? I want to make sure I'm doing this right."

"You're not," Sherlock stated before he launched into an in depth explanation. They only got through one page worth of problems before lunch was over and neither of them had eaten a thing.

"Do you think you could help me after school? I'll have to ask my dad but I can probably pay you to tutor me," John asked as they packed up their notebooks.

"I don't need money. Do you want to go to your place or my place?"

"I'll feel guilty if I don't pay you something; I think your place would be best." There's never any telling what awaits Harry and him after school.

"You can pay me in a favor," Sherlock offered.

"What kind of favor?"

"I need an assistant for something; we can do it after we finish studying."

John thought about it, "Okay, but I need to be back in time to do my other homework."

Sherlock raised his eyebrow, "Do you do anything besides homework?"

John chuckled halfheartedly, "Not really." The warning bell sounded, "I'll meet you at the front of the building after school, okay?"

Sherlock nodded and they both headed in the separate directions of their classes.

John stopped Harry in the hall later in the day, "Can you tell dad I'm studying with a friend tonight so I won't be home till later?"

"You tell him, I'm not coming home tonight," she explained.

"What? What do you mean, you're grounded?" he asked.

"Fuck that, I'm always grounded! Just call him at home, he doesn't have work today anyway."

"All the more reason you should be going home," John reasoned. If he's been home all day that'll mean he's been drinking to relax.

"Sammy invited me to a party later and then I'm spending the night at hers."

John's eyes widened to saucers, "You're not coming home at all? Harry, he's going to kill you!" he whispered angrily.

"He would've killed me anyways; report cards went out yesterday," she explained.

"THEN DO YOUR FUCKING HOMEWORK FOR ONCE, HARRIET!" He regretted raising his voice, people were staring now.

"Fuck off, John!" She pushed him away; he slammed her locker shut before storming away. "Dickhead!" she called after him.

He was shaking and he couldn't pinpoint why, his breathing was becoming labored as well, he quickly ducked into a bathroom and pulled out his phone. The door announced someone else had entered after him, he glanced over his shoulder to see Sherlock had followed him in, "Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine, I just, I need to call my dad," he said between heavy breaths. "I need to, tell him I won't be, home till later tonight."

Sherlock eyed him cautiously, "We can reschedule for another day if you want," he suggested.

"No! I need help with chemistry," he said as he tried to dial his phone, his hands were shaking too much and he couldn't stop pressing wrong numbers.

Sherlock grabbed it from his hands, "We can do it at your house if that'd be easier for you," he tried again as he dialed the number for him and handing it back so he could press call when he was ready.

"No! We can't, my dad, d-doesn't like me bringing friends home," he lied and started pacing.

"It's okay—" Sherlock started but John interrupted him.

"No it's no! It's not okay!" He walked over to the sink and tossed his phone on the edge while he rinsed his face with cold water. He leaned over the sink, his eyes closed while his brain tried to process what was happening. "No, you're right, I'm sorry. It's okay." He picked up his phone and pressed call.

"Hello?" his dad answered on the second ring.

"Hey dad, it's John."

"John? Is everything alright? You're supposed to be in school."

"Yeah, I am, I was just calling to let you know I won't be home till later tonight. I'm going to a friend's house so he can help me study," his voice wavered, but you couldn't tell over the phone.

"Oh. That's fine, what are you studying?"

"Chemistry."

"That's hard stuff," his dad agreed. "Thanks for letting me know. I'm proud of you son, I got your report card today, all As!"

"Thanks dad." Final bell rang, "I gotta go now, that was the bell."

"Alright, I'll see you later, love you."

"Love you too, bye." He hung his head, still leaning over the sink

Before his dad hung up he added something, "Tell Harriet I need to speak with her when she get's home, I got her report card today too."

John could feel himself pale, "Okay." Click.

Sherlock watched carefully as John crossed the bathroom and slid down the wall, bringing his knees into his chest and tangling his hands in his hair. He walked over and sat next to him on the dirty bathroom floor.

"I'm sorry," John apologized.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

There was a moment of silence as Sherlock thought of what to say that might offer some sort of comfort to John. He didn't normally care about other people's comfort, nor did he offer to tutor them or invite them on outings. He could sense something different about John though, he could tell he wasn't as stupid as other people and he wasn't mean to Sherlock like the other students.

"So we're friends then?" Sherlock asked wearily.

"If you want to be," John shrugged, looking straight ahead.

"Do you want to be?"

John peaked at Sherlock from the corner of his eye, "I'd like that I think."


	2. Chapter 2

They met at the front of the building after school like they said they would, but Sherlock said they were waiting for one more person. A couple minutes after a small girl walked over to where they were standing, "Hello," she greeted.

"Molly, this is John Watson; John, this is Molly Hooper. I walk her home after school," Sherlock explained.

"It's nice to meet you," John stuck out his hand.

"You as well," she said sincerely as she shook hands. "I'm ready, let's go."

It soon became apparent to John that Molly had a bit of a crush on Sherlock, every time he glanced at her as he told the story of how one of his teachers was wrong that day, she blushed and looked away.

"Goodbye, I'll see you tomorrow, Sherlock," she said as they passed her house.

"Tomorrow," Sherlock agreed with a wave.

"It was nice to meet you, John."

"She was nice," John noted as they continued walking.

"Yeah, she's a sweet kid," Sherlock agreed with a shrug.

"She likes you, you know?" John smiled when Sherlock looked confused. "She has a crush on you."

"No she doesn't!" he defended.

"Then why does she blush around you all the time?" John challenged.

"She blushes around everyone, it's what she does."

"No. I've seen her with her friends in the halls before, not blushing. Do you like her?"

"No. Girlfriends aren't really my area," Sherlock hinted.

"Oh. Oh!" John exclaimed once he got the full weight of what Sherlock said. "Do you like any boys then?"

Sherlock glanced sideways at him, "None particularly." After a few moments of silence he spoke again, "Do you like anyone?"

The question stumped John, he'd always been so focused on his studies he never really noticed anyone before. "I don't even know what gender I like, or if I like both, or other genders," he confided. "I guess I'd never really thought about it."

There was still a five minute walk ahead of them and neither of them knew what to fill the silence with, finally, however, John thought of something, "So, what's this favor you want me to do?"

"I can't tell you."

"Why not? Is it dangerous?"

"If I tell you, you won't do it. I don't offer my tutoring services for free," he added with a smile.

"I'll still do it," John insisted. "I promise!" he said after Sherlock gave him a look.

"There's a criminal running around at night and breaking into people's homes, I want to find them."

"You what?" John asked, wide eyed.

"See, I told you you wouldn't want to do it."

"You want to chase after a criminal?!"

"I don't want to chase after them, I just want to observe them," Sherlock clarified.

"That's not much better, Sherlock," John chuckled incredulously.

"How about we study and then drop you home, and then later tonight I'll wait outside your house and if you decide to come with I'll be there and if not, no hard feelings," Sherlock suggested.

After considering it, John thought it was an okay idea, "Fine."

Sherlock smiled, "Excellent! This is me," he gestured to a gated off house. It was bigger and fancier than John's, but still cute and modest; he loved it.

"I'm home!" Sherlock called out as they entered.

"Sherlock, dear!" a voice came from another room, the person it belonged to coming to greet him. "How was school? Who's this? I'm Mrs. Hudson, the housekeeper."

"John Watson," John greeted.

"I'm helping him study, can you please tell everybody to stay out of the library." He led John up the stairs and into a large room covered wall to wall with books.

"Wow."

"You like it?" Sherlock asked with a grin, he was being cocky and John could tell.

He shrugged off his amazement, "It's alright."

Sherlock scoffed at his pathetic attempt. "My mom's a mathematician,"  he explained as he set his bag at a table and went to grab a couple of books off the shelves.

"Are you good at math then?" John was eyeing one of the shelves, reading over its contents.

Sherlock shrugged, "I'm better at science, but I understand the math that's involved in it."

"Do you want to be a scientist when you're older?"

"I'm open to it." He sat down and beckoned John to sit next to him. "What about you?"

"I want to be a doctor," John replied easily. He opened his notes and got out his assignment.

Sherlock tsked, "That's all wrong," and the next thing either of them knew, it was seven o'clock.

"I have to be heading back," John said as he rubbed his eyes.

"We're not done."

"It's not due until next week."

Sherlock blinked, "Normally kids put off their homework until the night before, I just assumed it was due tomorrow," he chuckled.

"Well, the idea of that makes me shudder." Sherlock laughed assuming he meant the idea of the assignment being due tomorrow.

"I'll get my mum to drive you home."

"That's not necessary, I can walk," John dismissed.

"Nonsense, I need to see where you live for tonight anyway."

"Oh, right. Assuming I actually come," he joked.

"You will," Sherlock insisted as he led him into the kitchen, only to find Mycroft sitting at the kitchen table. "Mycroft," Sherlock sneered, "Where's mum?"

"Her study, I'd assume," he replied in a bored tone.

"I'll be right back." He left John in the kitchen.

"And you are?"

"John Watson," he held out his hand to shake, but Mycroft simply looked at his hand and back up to his eyes; he let it drop. "Are you Sherlock's brother then?"

"Mmm." He continued to stare John down, effectively intimidating him.

Luckily Sherlock came back with his mum soon, "Hello John, you need a lift home?"

"Yes please, if it's no trouble."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "It's no trouble," both he and his mum answered at the same time.

"You have a lovely home, Mrs. Holmes," John complimented on their way out the door.

"Oh! Thank you, John, that's so sweet of you! But, please call me Wanda or mum," she gushed. "It's so nice to have Sherlock bring a friend over for once!"

"Thanks mum, way to make me sound like a loser."

"Well you never bring anyone over," she turns to John in the car, "I'm always telling him to bring sweet little Molly over, but he never listens to me. Have you met her?"

"Yes, she was very nice," he grinned knowingly at Sherlock.

"Oh, you caught onto her crush too huh? It's hardly her fault, Sherl is such a catch!"

"Mum!" Sherlock tinged pink slightly.

"Oh, hush up. Where did you say you live, John?" The ride took barely ten minutes and when they pulled into the drive John nodded to Sherlock which bedroom was his while Wanda chattered her goodbyes. "Come back soon, okay John? You're welcome over anytime; don't be afraid to just drop by! If Sherlock's out you can just stay and chat with me till he get's back, not that he ever goes anywhere. I swear he wouldn't get out of bed it I didn't force him to—"

"Mum," Sherlock warned. "I'm sure John would like to go inside now."

"Oh yes, of course! It was lovely to meet you, John!"

"I'll see you tomorrow," Sherlock said.

"See you tomorrow, it was lovely to meet you too." John got out of the car and waited until they pulled out of the drive to go through the door and face the storm he was dreading.


	3. Chapter 3

John shut the door behind him, a feeling of unease in his stomach. "I'm home!" he called out.

"Glad someone is, did Harry tell you where she'd be when she decided to disobey me?"

John was surprised that he wasn't more drunk, he must have only started an hour or two ago. "Harry's not home?" He feigned surprise. "Actually, I think I heard her friends talking about a party or something?" He fiddled with his backpack strap as he started to go to his room.

His dad scoffed, "I honestly can't believe her sometimes. How did she think she'd get away with this?" John shrugged. "Well, anyways, how was studying with your friend?"

"It was good, I'm almost done with the assignment." He decided to press his luck and ask instead of risk getting caught sneaking out, "Do you think I could go back to his place tonight? He said something about catching a movie or something."

"Yeah, go ahead. Have fun, you deserve it Mr. Straight-A-Student! Do you need some money?" He pulled out his wallet and passed over a chunk of cash.

"Thanks, I don't know what time I'll be back, so it might be late," he warned.

His dad waved it off, "It's not you I'm worried about." John laughed nervously and continued to his room to study.

There was a sharp tap on his window at around 8, John froze on his bed having been waiting. He got over his moment of "Maybe I shouldn't go," and looked out the window to signal that he was on his way down.

"Dad I'm leaving!" he called on his way down the stairs.

"Aight," he mumbled from the sofa. "You 'ave a verry good time, John."

"I will," John replied a little sadly.

Suddenly something surged through his dad, causing him to flop over the back of the couch and land sharply on the floor before he sprung back up, "Wait! Give me a hug!" he semi shouted.

John reluctantly took a step forward, his dad practically lunged at him and fell in his arms. "Dad, Sherlock's waiting for me; I'm gonna smell like booze," he complained.

"Sorry, yur right, ssorry. God, you must be so ashamed o' me."

"No, it's fine," he lied. "I just don't want to make Sherlock wait. Goodbye," he waved slightly as he backed towards the door.

"What took you so long?" Sherlock asked as he closed the door.

"Sorry," was all he said.

Sherlock seemed to look him over with a strange look, "It's fine. Let's go."

"Where are we going?"

"Central London."

"That's ten miles away!" John objected.

"When's the last time you heard of a crime happening in this part of town? Don't worry," Sherlock said exasperatedly, "We're taking a cab."

"Awesome," John said dully.

"You don't have to go," Sherlock reminded him.

"It's not that, I want to."

"You seem off," Sherlock narrowed his eyes trying to use some of the tips Mycroft had given him when deducing someone.

"You've known me for one day, how would you know if I was off?" John scoffed.

"You're acting different than before."

"Let's just get going, yeah? My dad's probably wondering why we're still here." Sherlock looked like he wanted to protest but relented anyway, not yet having sufficient evidence for his theories.

Once they were in the cab Sherlock started explaining what he needed to observe, "This is just an everyday robber, but I need practice at identifying criminals and what sets them apart from normal people."

"Why? Do you want to be cop?"

Sherlock smirked, "I'm going to be a consulting detective."

"What's that? I've never heard of that before," John said with confusion.

"I invented it, I'll be the only one in the world. When the police are trying to solve a murder and ultimately failing to do so, they'll call me," Sherlock explained with a mix of pride and smugness. "I'll tell you one thing, if your scalpel work is anything like your handwriting I won't be going to you to patch me up," he teased.

"Dickhead," John muttered through his grin. "I thought criminals were supposed to be like everyday people, how is this going to help? Do you even know what you're looking for?"

"Not yet, I've observed a few others like the one were going to see tonight; I'm hoping there's some sort of pattern. Criminals are everyday people when they're not being criminals. What's the difference between a fish and an elephant?"

"A fish lives in water," John replied, not seeing how the conversation turned.

"Exactly, you take the fish out of water and put it on land, or put the elephant in the ocean; the only difference you'll see are the physical characteristics. They're both animals, therefore, they both act like animals. It's only once the elephant's on land that you call it an elephant, only once you put the fish in water will you call it a fish. Until you do that, they're both just animals."

"So, a criminal's only a criminal when they're committing a crime?"

"No, an elephant is an elephant from the moment it's conceived and a fish is a fish the moment the egg is laid. You could just say the elephant is swimming and the fish is just jumping, but fish swim and elephants jump. Everyday people have the potential to commit crimes, and criminals had to be everyday people before they committed the crime. Criminals can be everyday people because they are everyday people, but once they've committed a crime they are a criminal that can act as an everyday individual."

"But..." John started, "Elephants can't jump."

"Shut up," Sherlock retorted, though John could see his grin in the dark.


	4. Chapter 4

"You should take a shower before school tomorrow," Sherlock stated on the cab ride home. Their adventure turned out to be a waste of time, the burglar didn't even show up. They waited for two hours before Sherlock called his informant, who then informed him that the burglar was picked up by the cops for drug possession that afternoon.

"Me?" John exclaimed, "What about you? You reek of formaldehyde! Did you have a biology experiment you decided to swim in today?"

"I'll have you know, it's almost impossible to open a bag with a fertile pig without a bit of splash, especially when you're working by yourself. Anyways, mine stench is explainable, you, however, stink of bourbon. Though judging by your lack of inebriation tonight I'd say your father was drinking it, your whole house probably smells the same."

John went silent for a moment, "You can smell it on me? That's impossible, he hugged me before I left, but that smell wouldn't have stuck on that long."

"I caught a whiff of it when you met me outside, I didn't know how to bring it up until just now though."

"Why would you bring it up?" John asked getting frustrated.

"I'm. . . concerned."

"No you're not. You're curious, just like you were curious about the burglar, and all those people you deduced when we were waiting for him. I don't see why though, so what if he likes an occasional glass of bourbon, lots of people do," John defended.

"Do you want to hear what I've deduced about you?"

"No!"

"I know your sister is a trouble maker, hell, the whole school knows she is. She get's bad grades and parties constantly, she sleeps around, she drinks. I know your mother passed away three years ago, because you missed two weeks of school and it was all anyone would talk about for nearly a week. I know your father hits your sister; she'll show up with red marks on her face, sometimes even bruises."

"Shut up."

"You don't, so what ever your father beats her for is something he doesn't beat you for. What does your sister do that you don't? You don't drink, you don't sleep around—you've never even had a girlfriend, you never cause any trouble or drama, you get good grades. I've had classes with Harriet in the past, so I know the the drinking and partying and boys have all come recently. Her grades have been shit since your mum died."

"I said shut it, Sherlock."

"You have severe anxiety when it comes to your grades, could be because you're a serious student who really wants to get into med school, but you don't eat until your work is done, which isn't consistent with any data I've collected."

"You've known me a day! How can you know that?"

"You're nearly a stone under weight (10 pounds). I've seen you at lunch before, you don't eat when you have homework; at first, I confess, I assumed you were just doing homework that was due the same day, though you proved me wrong today when you were working on something that's not due till next week. Am I wrong?"

John turned towards the window of the cab, opting to ignore Sherlock completely.

"Am I wrong?"

John pursed his lips and shook his head.

"I didn't think so."

"Harry doesn't like boys," was all he said.

Sherlock groaned, "There's always something."

"What was the point of that exactly?"

"You need to know what you're getting yourself into if you're going to be my "friend". There is no such thing as secrets when you're around me, John."

John understood then why the other students pick on Sherlock. "Well, at least that saved me a lot of time explaining my home life, or making up lies."

Sherlock's head snapped towards John, "You still want to be friends?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I? I'm not stupid, I knew you were going to find out eventually. You have a reputation you know."

Sherlock grinned mischievously, "Oh, I know."

The cabby piped up, "You know the meter's still running, right?"

John looked outside to see they were outside his house, "Holy shit, I didn't even know we were here."

"Idiot," Sherlock said. "You've been staring out the window the past two minutes, where did you think you were?"

"I don't know! How much do I owe you?" he asked the cab driver.

"Don't worry about it, I've got it," Sherlock interrupted. "I dragged you along."

John shrugged, "I'll see you tomorrow then, yeah?"

"See you tomorrow."

John prepared himself for another storm as he exited the vehicle. The lights inside were still on, which meant either his dad had passed out on the couch, or he was still up. He opened the door as quietly as he could, but to his dismay his dad was still awake. And Harry was home.


	5. Chapter 5

"Ello, John," his dad greeted.

"Hey, dad," John looked to where Harry was sitting on the couch, "Harry."

"Joohnnnyyy!"

John sighed.

"Look who decided tuh come home tonight, Johnny. Even thow she's grounded n isn supposed tuh be out."

"Harry," John's voice cracked with anxiety.

"Yah know, I can't really tell. Does she seem differun tuh you?"

Something snapped in John, suddenly he wasn't anxious, he was angry. This fucking hypocrite. "You know, she does seem a little different. She kinda reminds me of you dad." He laughed though none of this was funny. "Hell, why don't I take up drinking too?! We can be the drunk Watsons, and all of the neighbors can point and laugh as we stumble down the street!"

Harry and their dad stared at him in shocked silence for a moment before he decided to leave and stormed out of the house. He didn't know where he would go, but suddenly the night air wasn't cold to him and it didn't matter if he ended up sleeping under a bridge, he just needed to get out of that house.

He needn't worry, however, the cab was still waiting outside with Sherlock next to it. "Need a place to stay?"

"Ta," John said getting in the car. "How'd you know?"

"I didn't—good guess though, if I say so myself." John laughed a real laugh this time and Sherlock grinned at him before giving the cab driver his address.

"Shoot, I forgot my homework," John said feeling dread in his stomach.

"Live a little, one night of no homework won't ruin you."

They sat in silence as Sherlock waited for John to realize. It took a minute.

Suddenly his eyes got wide and his breathing changed, "Sherlock, I just stormed out of my house after calling my sister and father drunks!"

The cabby burst out laughing, "Son, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you're in the dog house with them, that's for sure!"

Sherlock quickly spoke up, "Don't listen to him, he's an alcoholic too, recently divorced, frequently chooses booze over rent, and about to be evicted. You did the right thing, it'll turn out fine," he said nonchalantly, as if John's life wasn't in danger, because it wasn't in Sherlock's opinion. "Worse comes to worse, you can always live with me."

"I can?" John asked bewildered.

"If you wanted to and you still want to be friends with me," Sherlock said a little unsure.

"Stop doubting yourself, of course I still want to be friends with you."

John didn't notice Sherlock looking at him like he was a creature from an alien planet, or a pup that was easily startled, yet a brave soldier at the same time.

"Will your mum be okay with me staying the night?" John asked suddenly as they drew closer to Sherlock's house.

Sherlock scoffed, "Please, she loves you like a son already. She didn't shut up about you after you left, she'll go crazy that you're staying."

That gave John a warm feeling in his gut and a smile on his face. The cab pulled into the driveway and Sherlock tossed a few large notes towards the front seat before dragging John excitedly inside.

"Mum, John's staying!" he called out.

"Oh, how lovely!" a voice came from the other room. "I'll put on some tea, John make yourself at home!" Sherlock eyed John in a told-you-so way, to which John rolled his eyes.

"I'll show you to the guest room. I might be able to find some pajamas in your size as well, but you'll have to stop by your house in the morning if you don't want to wear those clothes to school. Or you can borrow something of mine, up to you," Sherlock shrugged and led John upstairs.


	6. Chapter 6

The guest bedroom looked as impressive as the rest of the house, causing John to shudder at the idea of Sherlock ever seeing the inside of his own house. He could almost swear he'd seen it in an interior decorating magazine that he'd looked through in the waiting room of a doctor's office. The bed was a queen with the fluffiest pillows John had ever seen; even the sheets looked better than anything he'd ever seen first hand—he didn't know what a thread count was, but he was sure these had a high one. There were two windows, both looking out into the driveway so the room was partially lit by street lights. There was also two mirrors, one above the dresser and one full length mirror next to the door, which surprised John more than it should have.

Sherlock went to find some pajamas for John, allowing him to reflect on his current situation.

John wasn't sure what he'd just done, or what the ramifications would be. One thing was for sure, he did not want to know what was happening at home right now. His head spun just thinking up possibilities; he walked over to the giant bed to sit down, not trusting his wobbly, anxiety-ridden legs to hold him.

He sat there on the bed trying not to think of anything at all for a few moments; he'd almost managed it when Sherlock came back in with an arm load of clothes, "Mrs. Hudson said she can wash your uniform tonight if you'd like, that way you don't have to go home for new ones."

John made a half-arsed attempt at straightening his posture so he didn't look so pathetic; Sherlock pretended not to notice as he set the clothes down next to him.

"Thank you, but I need to go back for my bag anyway. I can wake up early and walk there, you won't even know I've left, so don't worry about needing to wake up early or anything," he rambled anxiously.

Sherlock almost laughed, almost. He may not have known him for very long, but Sherlock knew John was different from other people; John was strong and wasn't sniveling all over the place as if the world had ended, because John knew it hadn't; he knew it was going to keep turning no matter what happened tonight or what happened tomorrow. Sherlock could see John's mind working out every single possibility and mapping the possible after effects. That's how John was different, but John couldn't hide his story from Sherlock, he had tells he didn't even know he had, and Sherlock could tell he was in his fight mode—survival mode.

Because John was a fighter, Sherlock could predict his next move.

Sometimes the best way to fight, is to surrender. In certain situations, if one chooses to fight right away, they'll find that they've unintentionally hung themselves. If they surrender, however, there will always be a chance to fight again, so they might as well try to bargain with the enemy first.

"Actually, it might be best if I go home. I shouldn't have left with both of them drunk," he started to get up and Sherlock gave him a panicked look, "one of them's probably murdered the other by now."

"You can't go back!" Sherlock exclaimed in alarm. "John, if you're scared that violence will break out, there's no reason for you to go back there tonight."

John was fucking shocked, "No reason! They're my family! My sister could get hurt!"

"You could get hurt!"

"But—"

"Just shut it, John! You're not going back and that's final. Your neighbors are only 3 meters away from your house, if anything serious happens they will hear it and call the police. John, I am asking you to stay here for the night, and accept the safety I am offering you. I'll walk with you to your house tomorrow and wait outside while you grab your things, what happens past that depends on what is happening tonight, and for this night I am asking you to think about yourself, because—forgive me—I don't logically see how you going home right now will be of any benefit to you."

"This isn't fair! You can't hold me hostage!"

"I can and I have! I'm staying up all night to make sure you stay put, whether you sleep soundly or not."

John was so angry his eyes started dripping hot, angry tears.

"Is this what kind of a friend you are? Controlling and manipulative?"

"I am not controlling nor manipulative, you're upset I've told you exactly what you don't want to hear, even though it's the most logical."

John scoffed, "Most logical what? It's certainly not a plan, I don't leave my fate up to hoping everything will turn out okay, Sherlock," he said bitterly.

"And what is your master plan, then? Are you going to go back there, in the hopes that your father and sister are just shouting at each other? What are you going to do if, god forbid, something worse is happening? You're still just a boy, John.

"You've obviously been raised to be the parental figure for Harriet, but you are not her father and no one is going to blame you for being self preserving."

"I can't just sit here and do nothing!" John exclaimed.

Sherlock sighed heavily in defeat. "Fine. Give me ten minutes."

"What? You can't come with," John said as if Sherlock were crazy, though it's not as if he had any room to talk.

"Well you're certainly not going alone! If you're going to be stupid, you can at least be reasonably stupid. Don't look at me like that, you know I'm right."

John sighed, unbelievably tired. "Fine."

"Good. Now stay put for ten minutes and think of what you're about to do." Sherlock waited until John was sitting on the bed before leaving him alone.

While Sherlock went to go talk to Mycroft about covering for him as they snuck out, John thought up every possible outcome and any possible solutions. The problem with that was he couldn't come up with anything that ended well. The more he thought about it, the more staying put sounded like the best and most logical decision.

Sherlock entered the room again fifteen minutes later and could already see what John was opening his mouth to tell him. "Oh, do make up your mind," Sherlock said, though the corner of his mouth had raised and he seemed relieved.


End file.
